


Hold Onto This For Me

by QueenPersephoneofHades



Series: Immortal Agents Aren't Hard to Come By [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Forever (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Gen, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3438170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenPersephoneofHades/pseuds/QueenPersephoneofHades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Henry Morgan met Peggy Carter, he certainly hadn't expected to trust such an important keepsake to her; then again, he wasn't planning on dying, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hold

_Sep. 7, 1940_

There was a clear sky that day.

That’s always the first thing he recalls, when asked about it later; the sky had been clear, and he had decided to take advantage of such a rarity and head out to the local pub for a drink.

Henry rarely ever saw the need to drink – the after-effects of doing so were incredibly troublesome and there was no telling what he’d say if he became inebriated – but he was, quite literally, shipping out tomorrow for France, so he thought he’d take advantage of his last twenty-four hours in London and indulge himself, if only for once.

The pub was a quaint establishment, known for its friendly atmosphere and good, cheap beer that didn’t taste like complete rubbish.

He wasn’t the only one in uniform tonight; a trio was chatting with some lovely ladies near the piano, and a whole table packed with half-drunk soldiers was the source of much boisterous laughter and off-key singing.

The other soldiers were clearly either too drunk or inexperienced in the arts of war to truly appreciate the crisp clothing they’d been given, carelessly sloshing their drinks on the fabric, unaware of the stains of mud and sweat and blood they were likely to pick up in the coming few weeks.

Henry just smiled sadly, discreetly – young people truly didn’t understand war, no matter how much their elders moaned about it, until they experienced it firsthand – and skirted around the raucous groups, taking a seat at the bar and ordering a brandy.

“Glass of Schnapps, please,” a crisp voice says from beside him, and he looks to the right to see something he definitely hadn’t been expecting; a lovely young woman with brunette hair, wearing a soldiers’ uniform much like his own, only with a slightly different color scheme.

He blinked a bit in surprise, but decides it’s not bothersome in the slightest – the world was growing up, growing out of it’s ridiculous gender roles; to be honest, he’s rather glad it’s finally getting a move on on that front – but suddenly he’s caught her eye as she turns a bit, and she raises her eyebrow a bit, obviously daring him to say something about her uniform.

He flushes a bit – half in embarrassment at being caught, half in shame for staring – and quickly says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you, I just-” he casts his eyes around the room, at the far less decorous men rowdily drinking, before smiling slightly “-I didn’t expect to see a person so proper being shipped out with us.”

She blinks, looking pleasantly surprised – she noticed the ‘ _person’_ used instead of ‘ _woman_ ’ – and nodded slightly, casting her own eyes on the other soldiers with not a small amount of disdain. “I’m not that shocked to find them like this. They won’t be home again for months. Some won’t come home at all; it’s only natural that they have a bit of fun.” Though, as she said it, she still rolled her eyes when a loud belch came from across the room.

“True,” Henry sighed, taking a sip of his brandy, “But they could try to be a bit more decent. They are going to represent King and Country, after all.”

She smiles a bit at that, amused. “What makes you think you’re representing King and Country any better than them when you’re here to get drunk as well?” she asks haughtily, baiting him.

He falls for it, a little; he draws himself up, with a mock superior look. “I never intended to become drunk, ma’am. I am simply here to while away my last few hours at home before I have to go bandaging up everyone in sight.”

“Ah, a doctor, then? I heard the demand for those has gone up,” she says, and suddenly she’s not goofing about anymore; her smile has slipped into a more somber frown.

Henry sobers instantly at her words, nodding wordlessly. There’s not much to say to that.

They sit, and drink, in silence for a few moments – not exactly an awkward silence, but definitely not a friendly one either – before she looks up at him again.

“What’s your name, doctor?”

He tilts his head, but answers, “Henry. Henry Morgan.”

Her lips tilt up the slightest bit. “I’m Peggy Carter.”

She lifts her glass, still half full. “Good luck tomorrow, Doctor Morgan.”

He breathes deeply for a moment, both moved and shocked at the toast offered, before lifting his own glass and clinking them together. “To you as well, Miss Carter.”

“Agent Carter,” she corrected.

“Agent Carter,” he parroted, and they both drained the last of their drinks in one go.

* * *

 

This is where things get a bit hazy for him.

He’d saluted Carter outside the pub, about to head off – him to find somewhere else in London to await the days end, her to report to her superiors – when a low drone had filled the air.

He hadn’t thought much of it, but at Carter’s sharp gasp he’d followed her gaze upward to where dozens, if not hundreds of planes were flying overhead.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Those aren’t ours,” he’d said uncertainly.

“No,” Peggy agreed, and she grabbed his elbow.

He turned toward her, intending to follow her, when a loud whistling sound came, and suddenly a building not far from them blew up.

It was all chaos after that; he remembered following Carter in a mad dash to try and put out the flames that had erupted after the explosion, but it soon transformed into him pulling Carter away from the burning building and back to the relative safety of the alleyways when the whistling continued and more and more buildings collapsed or exploded.

They’d ducked behind a taller residence when the whistling came again, higher and louder than before, and he barely had the time to pull Carter into an awkward embrace before the world erupted and he was suddenly flying through the air, a deep pain in his left side and the familiar feeling of blood spurting from a wound and he hit the ground hard enough to snap his right arm with a _crack_ and **dear God** that hadn’t happened in a while, **OW,** he wasn’t used to anything beyond a few seconds pain between death and reawakening but this was just **awful-**

“MORGAN!”

-through the god-awful pounding in his head that had started up due to blood loss and harsh contact with the ground, he heard Agent Carter’s voice snapping at him.

He inhaled sharply, barely managing to groan in pain as two unfamiliar hands groped across him, finding the piece of timber that had dug into his lower intestine and obliterated his left kidney and pressing against the sides of the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood despite the fact that he was well and truly impaled by a piece of house.

“Carter,” he manages to gurgle, but she shushes him, and he blinks his already darkened eyes to try and focus on her.

Her hair is in complete disarray; there’s red on her uniform; there’s a cut on her right arm; that idiotic droning-whistling sound is still happening, and he wishes it would stop, because it is not helping his headache and **God this _hurts_**

“Stay awake, Doctor,” orders Carter, and her eyes are a bit shiny, shinier than they should be, and he feels bad because she shouldn’t be sad – not for him, he’d be fine in a minute… but she didn’t know that, did she? Still, why did she care? He was just the odd bloke she met in a pub before everything blew up; she shouldn’t be sad.

He must’ve said that last bit out loud, because she snaps, “That doesn’t matter, Morgan, you just need to lie still-”

But he can’t do that – he’d fading fast, already going, **Lord have mercy but it stings** – and there’s something… he can’t lose something important, he needs to

He manages to lift one hand – the one that isn’t broken; that one’s already gone numb by now – and reaches into his inner breast pocket, sluggishly grasps cool gold in his palm and drags his favorite possession out into the open for Agent Carter to see.

“Do me… favor… hold this,” he slurs.

He barely sees her head nod and hears her say, “Sure thing, but I need you to stay awake, Morgan-”

_before she’s gone_

_he’s gone_

_where’s it all gone?_

And then he’s swimming out of the Thames, gasping and choking on river water, the drone of enemy airplanes still in the air and the whistle of falling bombs still raining down on London, and he’s naked in the river in the middle of complete mayhem, and he’s just glad that he managed to give Agent Carter his watch before he died, because if that disappeared in his rebirth process, who knew what his century-dead father would say?


	2. On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She really needs another drink after this.

Peggy Carter caught the small gold object in her hands seconds before it could clink against the ground, staring numbly at the very large, very dark stain of blood coating the ground in front of her.

He had- he’d told her to hang onto it, and he-

He just-

“Bloody hell,” she muttered, blinking rapidly, as if that would bring back the corpse she had expected when the good doctor’s breathing had stopped.

The whine of plane engines, and shrill scream of dropping bombs, the cries of terror and shock pierced through the city, but in the alleyway, not fifteen feet from what had once been a house, a young woman can only sit and stare at where a dead man _should be_ but **isn’t.**

Her training as an agent of the S.S.R. included expecting the unexpected and rolling with the punches, adjusting to circumstances even if they seemed unlikely or impossible, but this- this was-

He was just _gone_.

She’d only known the man for half an hour, maybe forty minutes, and he’d saved her life, handed her an obviously precious possession – a watch, her mind supplies dimly – **_died_** , and now he was nowhere at all.

“ _Dammit,_ ” she practically snarls, because she doesn’t understand a damn thing and the whole city of London has gone to hell, and all she can do is crouch in an alleyway and watch it happen.

Yeah, how about _no._

She climbs to her feet, wobbling a bit on unsteady legs, but she steals her nerves and shoves the watch into her pocket, right over her heart.

Henry Morgan had asked her to hold on to it.

It was his last request before he… it was his last request, so she damn well would do it.

Peggy Carter walked out of an alleyway stained with red and smelling of burnt wood, holding a dead man’s watch and deciding that men truly had no idea how to explain or ask for things properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peggy Carter is bae. That is all.


	3. Tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had him right where she wanted him, and they both knew it.

_Sept. 8, 1940_

It was no small surprise that the first thing Agent Carter did upon catching sight of him again was break his nose.

He'd been expecting it, really; after living so long with so many disastrous revelations of his gift in many different situations, he'd become used to either violence or screaming when he was found again after dying in front of someone.

The only problem was, he'd actually been attempting to  _avoid_ her; what with the utter devastation the German bombers had left behind in London, and the complete disarray the English people had been thrown into, he'd found it easy to slip into a ruined house unnoticed and procure some clothing. With that accomplished and the bombings having eventually eased – after many,  _many_ hours of relentless destruction – he'd thought he'd simply slip back to his flat or what was left of it, put on another of his uniforms, and help in the rescuing of any trapped civilians, but about four blocks from his home was when he and the agent in question had locked eyes.

He'd had a split second to read recognition, realization, horror, and a brief moment of blank shock in Carter's eyes, before suddenly she was moving toward him far too quickly for him to retreat and he had just enough time to brace himself before he was sent reeling from the harsh strike to the face she had just delivered to him.

" _What the_ _ **hell?!**_ " she practically snarled, ferocious as a lion, eyes like daggers trained on his slow recovery from her blow.

Henry groaned in response, wincing not only from the pain, but the attention they were doubtlessly drawing; while most people were focused on digging through the wreckage of homes and buildings, there were bound to be a few looking around the area and catching sight of the spectacle.

"Was tha' weally necessawy, Agent Cawtew?" he barely managed to slur out, probing the smarting flesh, resisting the urge to grimace. He'd have to set it back in place himself. Not fun.

He looked up just in time to see Carter's eyes darken in a dangerous way he'd rarely seen, and swallowed. Not good.

He opened his mouth, unsure what to say – he'd died and disappeared right in front of her, and now he was back; what exactly  _could_ he say? – but she beat him to the punch again; grabbing his arm, she pulled him out of the view of the street, down another alleyway – this seemed to be a new habit of theirs – until they were away from the sound of crowds and bricks scraping against each other.

She shoved him a bit, though not enough to truly hurt, and stepped back, hands going to her hips in a commanding position. "Talk," she said. It was not a request.

So, half out of a desire not to be struck again, he talked, as best he could.

He talked about a ship sailing for the New World, and a foolish doctor who had not kept his mouth shut and been shot, tossed overboard. He talked about awakening in the ocean and swimming for a week until he reached the shore. He talked about Nora, the asylum, the scientists who had 'studied' his condition on the one other occasion he'd been found out.

He talked of living without aging; of dying, constantly, only to wake up in a river or a pond not a second later, naked as the day he was born and shaking like a leaf in a wind storm.

He talked quite a bit, and for quite a long while; he snapped his nose back into place with a sharp  _crack!_  and a measured " **Ow.** " that came from years of experience with such things.

Halfway through his talking, he realized he probably shouldn't be telling a woman he'd only met yesterday this huge secret, this thing that had caused him so much suffering.

But Agent Carter was quiet, staring at him stormily, but not interrupting even in the midst of one of his most impossible stories, and he supposed if anyone had the right to know about his incredible secret, it would be the woman who not only handled his disappearing act with barely a blink, but also  _punched_ him instead of running screaming for the hills.

Agent Peggy Carter was an impressive credit to her profession, that was for sure; he'd known quite a few men who'd burst into tears upon learning such mind-bending impossibilities.

"… and I woke up in the Thames almost as soon as I requested you look after my watch; by the way, do you still have it, Agent? I'm rather fond of it; it's one of the only things I have left from my father, who got it from  _his_ father-"

His babbling was interrupted when a small metal disk  _thunked_  into his chest. He caught it more out of reflex than anything, leaving him to stare incredulously at the pacing agent not five feet from him.

"So it's… true then. You die and just sort of…  _appear_  underwater somewhere?" she asked, not looking at him, eyebrows drawn together. She was sorting it all out.

"Yes. It's rather random; never the same place twice, but always in water. Luckily, it seems I reappear close to the location I died, so I don't end up in the middle of the ocean or halfway across the English channel," he mused, leaning back a bit, appearing to inspect his watch absentmindedly while all of his attention was on Carter.

He didn't want to spook her; he'd just saddled a whole ton of information onto her, stories that she would have tossed aside as fantasies only a day earlier. It was a lot to process all at once.

There was a moment's silence as she paced, and he rubbed imaginary dirt off his watch.

Suddenly Carter came to a standstill, and Henry involuntarily stiffened, half-expecting another blow.

"… I'm sorry I struck you. That was… unbecoming of me. I just-" Carter paused halfway, obviously at a loss.

"-didn't expect to see a vanishing dead man again?" Henry offered.

She nodded. "It's just… so insane. I wouldn't believe it myself, but…" she gestured with one hand helplessly. "I can't deny what I see, even if it is mad as hell."

"Believe me, it took some getting used to for me as well. Being able to die and return is not nearly as fun as it sounds," Henry murmured, frowning.

Carter watched his face, expression pensive.

"… If anyone found out, they'd try to hurt you."

It wasn't really a question, but Henry nodded anyway.

Carter inhaled, closed her eyes, rubbing at her temple as if she were developing a migraine, and turned away again.

Henry slumped a bit in disappointment, knowing full well how this would most likely go; she'd need to report to her superior officers at some point, and though most of them would scoff at the tales she'd tell, at least one of them would get curious and look up a 'Doctor Morgan' within the military, and the investigations would begin-

"Okay."

His mind screeched to a halt, and he paused in the middle of turning away in preparation to return home and pack his bags. "Okay?" he parroted stupidly.

"Okay." Carter had turned back to face him, face set in a steady expression and eyes unwaveringly clear. "I won't inform anyone of your condition."

Henry turned to her fully, cocking his head to one side. "Isn't it the Strategic Scientific Reserve's job to investigate and study new and improved ways to create better and greater soldiers?" he asked, eying her uniform again; he knew he'd recognized it somewhere, but now he knew for sure what it was.

Carter smirked. "Yes, but I believe immortal agents are far more useful when they join willingly instead of being laboratory experiments."

Um…

"What?" he stuttered, flabbergasted. Had he heard right? "Do you intend to coerce me into the S.S.R., ma'am?"

"I'm not going to blackmail you, Morgan, I'm just telling you the truth; the Allies could really use someone with your… abilities, to help bring the fight to Hitler and his HYDRA lackies. But I won't force you. I simply believe your talents are wasted as simply a field doctor."

He stiffened at that. "Saving the lives of brave men is not a waste," he practically hissed.

Carter wasn't even fazed. "I know," she acquiesced, "But those brave men wouldn't have to give their lives if someone with an unending one offered his own services instead."

_That_ floored him.

There was nothing he could say in refusal. There was nothing  _to_ say, really.

Carter quirked an eyebrow upward, neutral expression not at all masking the triumphant gleam in her eye.

She knew she'd won.

"You drive a hard bargain, Agent Carter," Henry ground out, in both frustration and admiration.

"Oh please, doctor," she said, now full on smiling, "If we're going to be working together, I insist you call me 'Peggy'."

He returned the smile reluctantly, inwardly admitting that perhaps she was a bit  _too_ good at her job.

"Only if you refer to me as 'Henry', ma'am."

"Henry it is then. Welcome to the S.S.R., Henry."

"Thank you, Peggy. I'm sure it will be an… interesting time, working with you."

"Likewise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peggy Carter is a badass who knows how to get what she wants. She knew from Henry's reaction that he would definitely join up if she mentioned saving more lives, and she took advantage of it because she is one smart motherfucker.  
> And lo, the epic partnership begins! I can't wait to see where this AU goes; I'm sorta just riding along the wave of ideas and making it up as I go, but if anyone has suggestions I'm all ears! See you guys next time!

**Author's Note:**

> The Other Doctor got such a popular response, and I got smacked in the face by a boatload of ideas, that I decided to start a series of stories! I’m not sure when part 2 will come up, but rest assured it should be coming up soon!


End file.
